I start to write at the computer anything/ something new rather than the solemn build of transcribed long hand from sketchbooks— and simultaneously, I observe that when I take a handwritten poem to digital, it is really my belief that by putting the poem onto the computer that I will make it real, that it will transform into the poem; while another parallel thought states that I am taking the song out of the word every step to the printed page, that the whole cannot be reconstituted, but is rendered as it is re-manufactured again and again, as far from foot stamp, bone rattle, lung wheezed urge to make-a-word-for-it can be;

and simultaneously I ponder two more thoughts: ain’t it the fact the more restrictions you put upon your audience, the less people will listen to your poem; the poem upon the page will have one chance and one chance only— your choice, you, the reader — to sing.

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